“Boss, we have a problem. That guy on the paper, from last night. He’s back.” Benny stuck his head in the door and delivered the killing blow Jack had been dreading.

Why tonight? Why now, when he had to leave in half an hour. “He stayed this time?”

“Yah. He’s having a drink in booth three.”

“Alone?”

“So far.”

“When did he get here?”

“Ten minutes ago. We’ve been watching him. Sonny and Blonde are still on him. I don’t think he knows.”

Again, Jack doubted that very much. Benny tensed, clearly awaiting instruction. He was a good guy. Not the sharpest, but one of the nicest. He was in the wrong profession though his size, big and burly, was clearly suited to the job.

“I’ll go have a beer with him then. He’s waiting for me.”

Benny frowned. “You sure boss? We could kick his ass out of here and make sure he doesn’t come back.”

That wouldn’t help. He would just find me somewhere else. “Yah. I’m sure. Better to get it done and over with.”

“We’ll be watching.”

“I’m counting on it.”

Benny disappeared, leaving the door open behind him. Jack stare at the yawning, dark opening. He knew what lay beyond. A short hall, more rooms on each side, storage, offices. Finally a heavy metal door that was always locked. Staff and ownership only kind of a deal. Then the club. Dark, too dark. Far too many corners where people could get lost in. Booths, two bars, a dance floor and the DJ set up. Pulsing music. The bathrooms.

He shuddered. God, the bathrooms. Jack knew what went on in there. Sex. Drugs. Dubious humans doing even worse. Jack knew nothing about that. He didn’t understand the attraction. He bought the club out of foreclosure because he was a businessman. Since he’d started running it he’d been even more turned off towards drinking and everything else that went along with the whole night life that he’d missed out on. It turned out not having a childhood did have some benefits.

Jack made his way out into the pulsing music and throbbing humanity. The very air was scented with misery and sex. He kept his head low and made straight for the booth. He recognized Lion’s form even through the darkness, through the throngs of drunk, giggling, nasty people he had to wade through.

Tall, broad shoulders, black hair, long, thick neck. Lion was a mean son of a bitch and he looked it. From the black eyes engrained in Jack’s memory to the scar on the right side of his face that ran from above his ear to below his jawline, people knew better than to stray near the guy. He was the kind of person that other people avoided even in the light of day in a harmless setting. Lion could make even the toughest guy cross to the other side of the street when he passed.

Jack slid into the booth and those dark eyes settled on him, exactly as he remembered. Perhaps it wasn’t the gruff persona, the huge, hulking form or the scars. It was those eyes. Soulless. Lion’s irises were so dark they were nearly black. It was as though all the evil in the entire world had settled into those eyes.

“Jack.” Lion lifted his beer, a bottle of some domestic shit that tasted worse than horse piss, in a mock salute. “Excellent timing. I just got here.”

“I know.” Don’t show fear. Lion was like a dog. He feasted on other’s insecurity. Jack schooled his features into careful neutrality. He folded his hands across the scarred, sticky table top. The club pulsed around them, completely oblivious to the deadly conversation about to take place. Jack just hoped Lion was smart enough not to pull a knife or something. His guards were watching and Lion would be dead before he lifted a finger.

“Of course you do.” Lion shrugged. Took a sip of his beer. His throat bobbed hard as he swallowed. He glanced at the bottle, as though surprised. “This is not bad. Can I buy you one?”

“No.”

“Right. What would be the point when you already own the place?”

Jack shrugged, feigning a casualness he didn’t feel. His stomach clenched hard, anticipation of a good fight doing strange things to his insides. His shoulders tensed. As his muscles bunched his back burned, a reminder of the appointment he had yet to keep. He wasn’t going to miss it. If Lion thought he could stand in the way, he was about to get a reality check, handed out by yours truly.

“That’s common knowledge. Anyone can find that out using a computer and a search engine.”

“That’s not why I came and we both know it.”

“Yah, well. Why did you come? Make it fast. I have an appointment to keep.”

Lion shook his head and made a little tsking noise. Jack was reminded of that sound, all those nights Lion made it before he suddenly exploded into violence, smashing property and faces alike. It was all the same to Lion, who acted with an utter lack of regard for any other person.

“We both know why. That little piece at the tattoo shop… you think you can keep her a secret, Jack? Or what she’s doing? Go ahead, cover that tattoo up. You won’t be able to get rid of us. We are your brothers. You swore a blood oath to us. Cut your palm and pressed your hand to ours. Swore you would be our brother for life. There is no getting out.”

Jack laughed bitterly. He leaned forward, as intimidating as Lion could be. “That’s funny. You know, that’s actually fucking hilarious because I haven’t been part of your little shit gang in oh… right. Thirteen years.”

Lion’s hand itched like he wanted a cigarette at the moment. Even after nearly a decade and a half, Jack still knew Lion’s ticks and twitches. The man hadn’t changed, but then again, Jack was very, very perceptive. Those heightened senses were what kept him alive all those rough years.

“Doesn’t change shit,” Lion spat. “You might not be running with us, but we own a part of you. You can put money in the bank, buy property and wear fancy suits, get that tattoo covered up, own nice cars, a big house. It doesn’t change who you really are and where you came from. We were your family when you had nothing else.”

Jack leaned back, pretending to consider that as he blocked that part of his heart that used to actually feel emotion, right off. “Get to the point, Lion. I have a meeting right away.”

“What that little pink haired chit again? A back-door meeting,” Lion sneered. “Clever. Very clever of you. Get her to do your work… are you fucking her as well? You never were one for it. I could never understand why.” He looked Jack up and down and Lion’s upper lip curled back in disgust.

Jack carefully didn’t react. He didn’t expect the knifing rage and sheer protectiveness to stab through his chest. He felt like exploding across that table, wrapping his hands around Lion’s throat and choking the life out of the guy. The only thing that stopped him was the fact that the guy had saved his life. Lion had been there when Jack needed him the most. Also, it was completely inappropriate to feel anything where Luna was concerned.

It was a first. The wild, frantic, vengeful, protective emotions that ate at his insides and spurred him to lose his composure.

He kept it by sheer force of will. Barely. He sighed, pretending to be bored.

“I can get that tattoo covered up, you said so yourself. So what if we’re brothers? I made my choices the same way you made yours. I didn’t want that to be my life anymore. I didn’t want to end up in prison for life. I didn’t want the street to be my home. If it’s money you need, I’ll gladly give you some. Friendship, even, if you want it.”

Lion’s thin lips pulled back into a sick parody of a smile. “Oh, Jack. Jack, Jack, Jack. You still don’t get it. I’m not here for money. Or your friendship. Time doesn’t erase memories. It doesn’t erase brotherhood or blood. No, what I want, is your soul.”